The Wistful Skyline

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2026-08-22 12:36:47 -

The mist did not roll in from the sea or settle from the hills; it rose from the cobblestones of Oakhaven like a breath held too long, thick and grey, smelling faintly of wet wool and old stone. Elias Thorne stood alone in the quarry yard, his hands wrapped around a chisel that had worn the leather of his palms to a smooth, pale hide. He was forty years old, a stonecutter whose back had begun...

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